


Interlude with Arachnid

by 912luvjaxlean



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Cabin, Established Relationship, F/M, pff, spider - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 14:06:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14935734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/912luvjaxlean/pseuds/912luvjaxlean
Summary: A phracking getaway cabin and an uninvited guest.





	Interlude with Arachnid

Phryne screamed.

Her third or fourth orgasm, thought Jack. That hip-twist-thrust and pause maneuver really worked. Good thing he brought along the Secrets of Oriental Love Making on this trip. One never knew when one would need a step-by-step description with pictures. He had thrilled her and fulfilled her and willed his willie to remain cock sure and upstanding. Good lad, thought Jack. Well done. We both deserve some rest. Snore.

Phryne screamed.

Hmm, should ask since I’m no longer in her and am half-asleep.  “Wa?”

“Sp-sp-sp-“

"Huh?”

“Sp-sp-SPIDER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Simultaneously and at the same time, Jack jolted completely awake with ringing ears and a naked woman clinging to his neck and torso. “Darling, I can’t breathe when you have me in your patented self-defense for ladies’ choke hold. Cough. Cough.” She relaxed her grip enough to allow him to continue living. “Where is it?”

“Over there.” She pointed with a shaking hand.

“Yes. Now I see it. Of course. Might be a huntsman or the like.” He talked calmly and slowly to her, trying to reassure her. It was a large spider. Huge in fact. Bloody enormous to be honest. “Yes, I see, bit of a bruiser. Nothing that the courageous Phryne Fisher can’t handle, though.” Jack sat up. When he did she climbed up onto his shoulders.

“Do something, Jack,” said Miss Fisher from her command position.

“Of course. Immediately. I just need to put some clothes on.”

“Why? Does that beast care?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t asked it.”

 She squeezed her knees against his throat. “Do something.”

“I’ll just rise, shall I? Umph. I suppose it’s too much to ask, but can you get off my shoulders?”

“Never.”

“Very well.” In the meantime, Jack began to notice a trickle of dampness coming down the middle of his back. Scientific surmise suggested that since the roof wasn’t leaking, it was his seed. Her juices. Or, some of that French lubricant that promoted pleasure. Lovely in action. Slimy in fact. “Perhaps I can off load you onto the table?”

“You make me sound like an obese sack of potatoes.”

“No, no. You are as slender as the day you forced yourself into our first crime scene.” He bent his head and she came over the top of him and knelt on the dining table. Their co-mingled post-coitus ooze was now in his hair.

Phryne stood up on the table. “Jack. Please. Do something.”

“Let me just gird my loins,” he grabbed his smalls and stepped into them. “And, perhaps this will be useful.”

“A fishing-pole? What good is that?”

“No one likes a back-seat driver, Miss Fisher. Allow me to investigate.”

“Jack. Chair. Now.”

“What?”

“The chair. Move it.”

“Where?”

“On the table!”

“On the… Of course.”

 She stood on the chair on the table. So graceful, lithe, desirable. So… “Get on with it, can’t you?”

Bossy, thought Jack. I won’t mention it, but spiders can climb. Witness the one clinging to the screen door on this cabin. “It didn’t fly up there,” he muttered.

“Did you say something?” asked Phryne from her tower.

“I said, it has no hair.”

“It’s bald? Ooh, no.” she swayed with fear.

“Don’t faint. You’ll crack your skull.”

“I never faint.”

“What about that time we drank that whole bottle of brandy?”

“Fainting is so much more civilized than vomiting in a lady’s cloche, Jack.”

“Too true. Unfortunately. So, no fainting and no fear, correct?”

“I never feel fear.”

“Then why are you standing on your homemade Everest?”

“I like it up here. Hand me my dressing gown.” Jack relegated to a lady’s maid in smalls holding a fishing pole, retrieved Phryne’s garment. He stealthily ran it over his head and down his back before he threw it to her. “Where are you going?”

“I am perusing the situation,” Jack said as he stealthily tiptoed to the door to peruse.

“You look ridiculous.”

Jack looked over his shoulder at the love of his life standing in the middle of a chair in the middle of a table wearing a sticky inside out robe and said, “That may be the pot calling the kettle black. But, let’s just see…Holy mother of God.”

“What? What?”

“This thing is huge.” Scientifically, he noted that the closer he got the bigger it appeared, somewhat like being a telescope or a microscope or something. “This is the biggest spider I have ever seen. Damn big. Damn. Big. I’ll just study it from here,” said Jack as he stepped back and prodded the screen with the narrow end of the pole.

From a distant height came the sound of a woman shrieking, “IT MOVED!”

“Phryne, why don’t you close your eyes and you won’t see it?”

“Why don’t you stop telling me what to do?”

“Why don’t you take care of it yourself, then?”

“Why don’t you…EeeeeK! It’s coming inside!”

Jack smirked. “Don’t be silly. Of course, it isn’t. My God! Yes, it is.” He boldly ran to the inner door, slammed it shut and locked it. Which was silly because the spider certainly couldn’t open the screen door. Though it seemed to be doing just that. “Looks like one or more of its legs is caught in the screen. It’s likely to free itself by morning, I’m sure.” He wasn’t sure. But, it sounded like something confident to say.

“Start a fire. A big fire. Now.”

“Why? It’s a warm night.”

“So it doesn’t come down the chimney,” said Phryne with arachnophobic logic. “Lock all the windows. Immediately.”

“The queen commanded.”

“Jack, I heard that.”

“You were meant to.”

“And, roll the rug up and stuff it against the door. And, build up that fire. Now!”

“I live to serve, my queen. My love. My own. My God. Its already stifling in here, we’re more likely to perish from the heat than that spider.”

“Please. Jack. For me.” His brave beloved’s voice trembled. Even a fearless lady detective had her limits.

Two hours later.

Big fire. Big hot fire. Big bloody spider still attached to screen door. Sweating. Thirsty. Woman still on chair on top of table. Air overheated. Tempers fraying. Page 71 of the Secrets of Oriental Lovemaking remains untried. (69 with two fingers up arse.)

Cabin in the woods, just the two of us, romantic interlude now being controlled by spider. Oxygen running low. Feel weak. Feel faint. On hands and knees, look like invitation to gang-bang. Feel certain I will never take her on a rustic retreat again. Ever. (I really wanted to try page 71.) Please go away, Mr. Spider. Should have gone to that hotel like she wanted. I’ll never live this down. If I live.

“Eeeeee! I think it moved.”

“It’s just trying to free itself, my darling.”

Or trying to open the inner door. Please go. Otherwise, I’ll be trapped here with this crazy lady and die of suffocation, dehydration and smoke inhalation. Just put your legs down and back away from the door. Now. I beg you. We are running low on wood. I may have to use the furniture. If I do, what will she stand on? Becoming disoriented. Talking to self. Talking to spider.

“Jack! Make the fire bigger. It might have friends.”

 

 


End file.
